


Skin Deep

by blushingninja



Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: M/M, Manga Spoilers, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4368020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blushingninja/pseuds/blushingninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of Worick and Nicolas' tattoo and how the they deal with the pain and discomfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin Deep

**Author's Note:**

> The fill for 'Worick and Nicolas' tattoos'... I tried ???  
> So [socialdegenerate](http://www.socialdegenerate.tumblr.com) and I are still running our Gangsta. prompt challenge thingy so please please please if you have any prompts leave them in the comment/review section or inbox them to us via [tumblr](http://www.blushingninja.tumblr.com/ask) and we'll try our best to fill it. Thank you! 
> 
> Beta the amazing, badass, B/1 [socialdegenerate](http://www.socialdegenerate.tumblr.com)

 

The constant buzz was irritating, the pain secondary.  _ Buzz, buzz,  _ pause, wipe,  _ buzz.  _ Craning his head to the side, Worick looked over to the tiny pots of ink  and the art lining the wall , with his gaze eventually falling on Nicolas. His silent companion sat with his knees drawn up to  his chest, bright eyes watching everything. Worick knew he couldn't back out now. If he showed even the tiniest bit of pain or fear Nicolas would put an end to the whole thing. The blond didn't want that. He wanted to forget, to move on and get  along with life. Their past made that hard, especially when some of those reminder were skin deep. Rubbing at the soft cotton covering the scar of his left eye, he was reminded that some memories were impossible to erase. But then some could be and that's why they were here. 

  
  


The brand burnt into Nico's back was pretty much impossible to remove. Coming short of practically scalping his back, that brand wasn't going anywhere. But at least they could cover it, banishing the numbers and memories with clean, fresh black ink. The design was simplistic, common and not associated with any house or family. But it was theirs. Something to hold close, visual proof of their connection and bond. Worick just hoped he could get through the worse of the pain. 

  
  


He'd experienced worse pain. Agony and gut-wrenching despair. This wasn't anywhere near that scale, but it hurt, ached. Something akin to grave rash that was being constantly prodded and sand papered again and again. And this was only the outline. The thick black fill work was going to take double the time and probably hurt even more. 

“Too much, pretty boy?” Glaring over his shoulder, Worick sneered at the heavily inked artist, buzzing tattoo gun in his hand.

“It's fine. Just make sure it's straight.” Laugh loud and booming, the artist went back to his work, head down and eyes sharp. 

  
  


Settling back against the leather seat, cheek resting on his arms folded in front of him, the blond flexed his fingers. He'd been gripping the corner of the chair a little too hard. Hard enough that his knuckles were a little white and numb. Catching movement, he watched Nicolas crawl up closer, dark eyes curious. He didn't even need to ask, telepathy was pretty much second nature to Worick now.

“It doesn't hurt,” restricted by his position, he couldn't manage to sign and was thankful when his companion followed his lips. “My hand is just falling asleep.” Rolling his wrist for emphasis, he offered his companion a warm smile. Head cocked to the side, the Twilight sat close and still, hand outstretched. Initially waiting for him to begin signing, Worick was surprised when the other man took his hand, squeezing gently. Chuckling, the blond took in the sensation with a quiet sigh. The pain became secondary with Nicolas' hands, large and warm, grounding him and taking the edge off the worst of it.

 

  
  


Hours but what felt like an impatient eternity later the blond was booted from the chair. Hair pinned up and back lathered in sticky ointment, he posed before a large mirror at the foyer of the parlour. 

“Oh Augusta, my apologises for ever doubting you.” Looking up from his cleaning with a frown, the shop owner looked anything but impressed. 

“That was your first mistake. Second was choosing such a cheap tribal tattoo.” Blowing him off, Worick desperately wished he could see his back properly. They'd have to take a proper photo at the first opportunity. Shirtless and restless he came back to sit beside Nico, overseeing the stencilling and positioning. 

“Lower,” he said, pointing to the dirty number/letter combo. “Go over the top of it.” Eyebrow raised, the artist did as he was told. Exhaling heavily, Worick was relieved he didn’t ask question. It was one of factors that had contributed to their decision. Others working in the Monroe family had recommended this shop and with its tight lipped owner it was easy to see why.

  
  


Nicolas didn't even flinch, even as the needle tore through the scar tissue of his brand, leaving a dark smudge of black in its wake. However once it was finished Worick felt a zing of excitement, taking in the shiny black ink with a grin. “Oh it looks so good on you too.” Pushing Nicolas towards the mirror, they stood back to back, admiring the shading and finer details. 

_** Looks better on me, ** _ the twilight signed, grinning as Worick took the bait, pouting and complaining the whole way home. The small apartment they shared was  courtesy of Monroe and his associates. Worick had managed to snag a couple  of good deals on the few pieces of furniture scattered around the room. A single sofa, a bed, a bar fridge and desk. Enough to keep them going but nothing more. It also had zero heating and short of starting a fire in their tiny little studio room there was little they could do to combat the cold. 

  
  


Splurging on good linen had been somewhat essential and cuddling together to fight off the worst of the cold nights had been a tactic they'd used for years. Winter on the Ergastulum streets were not kind and they knew the extent of that. 

“I don't like this ointment, it's sticky and uncomfortable.” Grumbling as they walked the stairs up to their room, Worick shuffled his shoulders, feeling the throb of the swelling.

_** Then don't use it.  ** _ F ollowing the signs with a sigh, the blond dug around in his pocket for the key, readying for their flight and door. 

“If I paid a guy good money to do a good job. I'm not going to ruin it myself.” 

_** You didn't have to.  ** _ Co ming to stand before the door, Worick fiddling with the key, Nicolas gave a quick couple of half hearted signs, almost sure his companion wouldn't notice. 

  
  


“No, but I wanted to” the blond said patiently, pulling open the door and kicking off his boots. “And besides, my clients are going to love it! Everyone loves a guy with tattoos.” Shaking his head, a soft smile playing upon his lips, the dark haired man followed his friend's lead but stopped before collapsing back on the sofa, leaning forward with a grunt. Looking up as Worick waved for his attention, he agreed to the offered drink, considering pressing the cool glass to his back to ease the string. “I'm not going to be able to wear this shirt for much longer.” Tugging at the offending fabric with a frown the blond took a long drink. “And I might need something a little stronger than this.” Shaking his head as he downed his drink, Nicolas looked unimpressed. 

_** No drinking. He said so.  ** _ Rolling his eye, the blond slump ed forward in his seat, scowling. 

“Since when did you follow the rules? Doesn't matter anyway, we're all out of the good stuff.” 

  
  


Shrugging his stinging shoulders, Nicolas made a non-committal gesture. The 'good stuff' to him smelt like bleach cut with sulphur and the fact Worick as a human could even drink it was nothing short of a miracle. Popping the buttons of his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders, the Twilight's hands were pushed aside, his blond companion lending his help. “I wasn't that much of a sissy was I? I mean I didn't cry or anything, it just pinched a little across the top.” He hadn't even looked in serious pain, especially to the untrained eye. But Nicolas knew his friend's tics and his discomfort had been plain enough. But it was an easy tease and Worick was fun to tease. He'd spent so many years of his life having people step around him that he rose to every little mockery with extreme bite. He was getting better at not taking serious offence, but it was still worth it. Especially when he was leaning in so close, his hair pulled back high, hands working to slide the sodden shirt off his shoulders.

  
  


_** Only a little bit of a sissy,  ** _ the shorter man signed, grinning as his friend immediately rose to the occasion. 

“What? Just because I'm not a heart of stone hard-ass.” Tisking as he sat back, only to jerk forward again, his back bumping the sofa cushions, Worick looked almost angry. Grinning, the Twilight pushed him further, poking him in the chest and forcing him back in his seat.

_** Rather be a hard-ass then a sissy.  ** _

  
  


Flipping his fringe from his eyes and readying for a fight, Worick pounced across the small space between them, desperately trying to get the smaller man in a head lock before he could slip away and out of reach. Grappling without knocking their tattoos, the pair crashed to the floor, knees sore as they collided, giving Nicolas the momentary upper hand. Doctor Theo called it numbed pain receptors, nothing ever hurt as much for him. Hardly registering the pain, the shorter man pinned his companion to the ground, face first. 

  
  


“Okay, okay!” Slamming his hand to the floor to signal his defeat, Worick huffed unhappily. It was rare he ever won their little bouts and truthfully he was just happy the Twilight never used his full power. Jerking upright, head spinning and knees aching, he was ready to give the other man a strict piece of his mind, but was silenced by a gentle kiss. Nicolas always kissed him gently. It was as if he was scared to breaking him, not that Worick was that fragile. But there was something about the feather light touch, the gentle caress of his lips. He certainly didn't get much practice talking, but what he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. 

  
  


It felt good. A similar primal sensation to that of eating, killing and sex. Something Nicolas was supposed to do, training or not. In the beginning he had been reluctant, unsure and maybe a little scared. But with Worick's careful coaxing and the moments lost in enjoyment, it was something that he'd learnt to love. Only when they were alone however. A secret only the two of them shared, something to cherish and hold close as friends and lovers. 

“You're a bit of a masochist aren’t you? It's like a little bit of pain gets your blood pumping.” Most people wouldn’t have believed the blond if he'd said Nicolas had an adorable blush. But it was very true and very cute, cuter than a grown man should be. The pink pigment to his cheeks didn't fade, even as he went in for another kiss, lips pressing a little harder this time and managing to make the other man moan. “I hope you’re not just getting me all stirred up for no reason.” Running his hands through the shorter man's hair, Worick tugged none too gently, forcing his head back, throat exposed. 

  
  


Leaning down and kissing up and down the slender column of his neck, Worick tongued over his lover's pulse, sucking hard with each beat of his heart. No one would look twice at the mark, no doubt by the end of the week it would blend in nicely with the collage of other bruises the Twilight would accumulate. But Worick would know. A mark, a symbol of their time together and love. 

“Too much. Bed now.” So entranced by his task, the blond hadn't not the rapid flailing on Nicolas' hand trying desperately to get his attention, having him resort to speech instead. Bed. Their small but solid little double. Just big enough to fit their shoulders and sturdy enough not to break if their passions became too rough. Bed was a good choice, especially as his knees were already sore from their playful tussle. Fucking on the floor was always so much trouble and for such little reward. 

  
  


Staggering up onto shaky knees, the distance from the floor to bed felt like a marathon. Throwing himself down face first, Worick reached up to pull out his hair. Sticky or not, being in bed with his hair up was uncomfortable. Tugging at his ponytail, agitated when it didn't fall out straight away, Nicolas quickly came to the rescue. Large hands ma de short work  of free ing the other man's long honey hair and pushing it over his shoulder to avoid the worse of the ointment. It was the first time the twilight had really taken in the tattoo. It look sharp, the dark black cutting through the creamy paleness of the blond's skin. Nicolas wanted to touch it. Run his finger over the outline to check if it would rub away. He wanted to press down on the redness surrounding the whole piece, poke the centre and gauge Worick's reaction. Instead he kept his hands to the side, looking on with head cocked to the side, eyes following the lines and loops he so longed to touch. 

  
  


A slap to thigh brought him back to reality, his friend signing at him in a huff.

_** Don't just stand  ** _ _** there ** _ _**. You said bed ** _ **.  ** Arching back off the bed, Worick fiddled with his belt, sliding his pants down off his hips, letting them pool at his feet before kicking them away.  _** Come on. Use lube. ** _ _** It hurts too much raw ** _ **.  ** Grinning like a cat with cream, Nicolas slipped a finger under the waist band of the other man's underwear, snapping it back with glee and watching Worick jerk. There was probably an angry string of cursing attached but if Worick didn't sign it or look at him it probably wasn't necessary for him to hear. Moving back to grab the tub of ointment, the  T wilight pulled his belt free, pants falling off his slender hips. Turning back to a naked Worick, he snorted as the blond wiggled around against the bed restlessly.  _** It's itchy ** _ ** , ** the tall man signed, looking over his shoulder with a pout. Shrugging, hand tugging down his underwear, Nicolas nudged the other man forward, unsteady balance making him fall flat to the mattress.

  
  


The  T wilight wasn't at all subtle about his desires, especially when hyped on pain or uppers. More than once Worick had been on the receiving end of his passion, untamed and needy. It was hard to keep up with him during these moments and a quick, sloppy blowjob seldom satisfied. Feeling his large hands grope at his ass, the blond hummed contently. This thankful ly wouldn't be one of those times. Nicolas seemed to have enough control to be gentle, to hold back and not just thrust into him without preparation or warning. But that wasn't to say he was tactful about it. A hand secured at his hip, the other spreading him with practised ease, slick, sticky ointment coating his entrance.  _** Do it properly ** _ ** ,  ** he signed quickly, feeling the long heat of Nicolas' cock against his inner thigh. Grunting both in acknowledgement and frustration, the twilight scooped two fingers into the tub, bringing them to Worick's hole with careless impatience. 

  
  


The initial stretch was always the wors t . But once the burn subsided, the blond almost purred. It was a welcomed change of pace. Most of his women were so apprehensive about ass play, he usually only received it from Nicolas. And it was well worth it. His companion had little to no finesse, no concept of a warm up, foreplay. It was all or nothing. Sliding in knuckle deep, the strength and power behind those fingers had Worick pushing his face in against the mattress and moaning. It was a reflex. There was no one to perform for here and Nicolas certainly didn't care. But it felt good, so very very good, especially when his lover remembered some guidance, curling his fingers to stroke and rub him inside. Trying to press his hips to the mattress, desperately wanting something, anything to rut against, the blond groaned, Nicolas refusing to let him go. Making to protest, the words died on his lips, probing fingers brushing over a tender little sweet spot that had him seeing stars. Burying his face in against the sheets, Worick knew his signing was sloppy, thrown together and barely legible.  _** It in now ** _ **.  **

  
  


The twilight didn't need to be told twice. Slipping out his fingers, movements jerky and uncoordinated, he lined his cock up to the puckered little hole and thrust, hard. Watching Worick's spine snap straight, hands white knuckling the sheets, he couldn't help but chuckle. He was going to get an earful of it later. It was worth it though, the tight squeeze around his cock, hot and inviting. He didn't need training for this. No hard taught practise or study. This was instinct in its purest sense. Hips thrusting forward, his hands automatically moved to the other man's hips, anchoring them together then pushing him forward, feeling the tension and need grow. It was hard to tell if was being too rough. It wasn't uncommon for the blond to come out of their coupling with bruises framing his hips. Thankfully it didn't affect his work, women were apparently very intrigued, usually wanting to add a couple of their own. 

  
  


High on pleasure and the sting of his back, Nicolas hardly considered Worick until he was kicked, bring him back to reality. The bright blue of his companion's eye was lit with carnal desire and something akin to anger. Cocking his head to the side, confused, Nicolas shuddered as the heat surrounding his cock increased suddenly. One of his hands was pulled from its hand hold, Worick used that single moment of weakness to coax his lover to touch him. Catching on quickly, Nicolas grinned, cupping the tall man's cock, teasing and soft. Pushing back hard, hips bucking, Worick flicked his fringe from his eyes, teeth clenched. 

“Don't fucking do that.” His words fell on entirely deaf ears, Nicolas continuing his gentle torment, hips rolling back and forth with deliberate slowness. From one extreme to the other, Worick couldn't win. It was easier on his back, where they communicate easier and he could properly scold the Twilight. But this way he was at his complete mercy and it was infuriating! Leaning back, the delicious fullness fuelled his passion further. 

  
  


Only Nicolas could make Worick feel like this, a mixture of pleasure and vulnerability. He was usually the aggressor, dominating over soft bodies and silky skin. Here and now however there was only heat, hard muscle and power. Power behind every thrust, every moan, every laboured breath. It was intoxicating, euphoric, the closest possible thing to being high without drugs. Forehead to the mattress, teeth clenched, it was impossible to hold back the loud, guttural moan that escaped the blond's lips. Tethering on the edge of orgasm, he just need that something more. Rutting against Nicolas' palm wasn't enough, he needed more. Leaning up on his elbows, his hand quickly over lapped his lover's, closing it into a fist around his cock. It was perfect, the exact right amount of heat and friction and it had him cumming in seconds. 

  
  


All but collapsing on the bed, Worick kept his knees locked, still kneeling as Nicolas pumped his hips back and forth, fingers digging into his hips. A couple of hard, sharp rolls of his hips later, the Twilight stilled, frozen stock still, his head lulling back, eyes glued to the ceiling, mouth open silently screaming in rapture. Slamming into Worick a final time, he milked the pleasure and sensation for all it was worth. Knees weak and shaky, Nicolas remembered at the last minute not to simply flop down atop his companion. Pulling out and falling flat to his front, the shorter man craned his head to the side, reaching out to push the hair from Worick's eyes, catching his gaze with a grin. 

_** Does it still hurt? ** _ Heaving a sigh as he shuffled his shoulders, the blond had to admit he could barely feel the pain. His whole body abuzz, lost in a daze of delicious after sex tingles, he seriously doubted his system could even register pain at this point. 

  
_** Cold? ** _ Making a  _ so so _ gesture with his hand, Worick pushed himself up and off the bed. Smoothing his hand down Nicolas' spine as he passed, the blond leant down, pressing a single kiss to the back of his partner's neck. He didn't need to say anything, unspoken words lingering between them.  _ Thank you. Love you. _


End file.
